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Gold Fire 1
Gold Fire 1 is an encounter in Kingdom Aflame. Enemies * Rebel Swordmaster (Kingdom Aflame) (200 Gold, 200 XP, 200 Energy, 3 HP) * Lord Edmund (Kingdom Aflame) (300 Gold, 300 XP, 300 Energy, 1 HP) Transcript Introduction "%He's% an exceptional warrior by all accounts, as well as a talented spellcaster," Crenus said. "But I don't believe that's %name% Kasan's greatest strength." He looked at Ranlatta across the width of Tharcandun's table. Hunks of bread, preserved meat, and cheese lay between them. The new general had chosen to eat the same fare as her troops. And King Crenus had sat down to the simple meal without demur. Scrolls and parchments surrounded the dishes, reports and missives compiled by the ruler's agents. "It's %his% leadership," Ranlatta said. "Yes. %His% name and deeds have brought some of the kingdom's best warriors, mages, commanders, alchemists, and adventurers to %his% side. Wherever %he% goes, %he% attracts new followers -- some with fame and reputations equal to %his% own." "Just like the Dragon-Rider. I... I mean..." "Yes. Now %his% allies are causing trouble across the kingdom, fighting us and winning fresh supporters." "If %his% allies are so valuable to %him%, eliminating them would weaken %him%..." *** Lord Edmund stood at the edge of the cliff, cutting a rather impressive figure. His exquisite doublet, glorious cape, soft breeches, and fine leather boots would have done him credit at any court or ballroom on Tor'gyyl. His oiled hair and neatly trimmed moustache were the very picture of deportment -- with just the right hint of rakishness to make a maiden sneak out of her bedroom window at night and while away the nocturnal hours with a loveable rogue. A magnificent sword hung from his right hand. Somehow the nobleman managed to look carefree and supremely martial at the same time. And so he should, for he'd spent a good portion of his life posing before mirrors and developing that skill. The backdrop behind him only added to the splendid effect. Clear blue sky framed an expanse of rolling hills that yielded to majestic mountain peaks on the horizon. It was a portrait painter's dream, so one might wonder why the gnome sat in front of his easel was frowning. "My cape should be blowing in the wind," Lord Edmund said. "That would make me look more dashing." "There isn't any wind, your lordship," the artist said. "Can't paint what isn't there." "I don't see why not. I've seen paintings of Terracles, and I doubt the artists were old enough to have associated with the fellow." "It's not the same, lordship." "I demand a blowing cape, artist." "I have a name, milord." "I dare say you do, but it's terribly uncouth for an aristocrat to remember every menial's name. Breeding simply doesn't permit it. Why, I've only recently learned Justine's name, and she's been in my service for five years." The tall elf woman who stood beside the artist sighed. "My name is Jesseri, Lord Edmund, and I've only been with you for six months." "Really?" He squinted at her. "All you blonde elf girls look the same. What happened to Justine?" "If you mean Gustina, she was cut to pieces after you made her lead an attack on an enemy camp." "Ah, yes. She insulted my abilities as a commander, so I challenged her to do better. Anyway, Gesseri, I-" "Jesseri." "What did I say about menials but a few moments ago?" Jesseri -- Lord Edmund's assistant, secretary, maidservant, sometimes lover, and constant hater -- bit back a retort. She wondered if she could get away with kicking him off the cliff, but that would probably have put an end to her stipend. "I want my cape to blow." The artist looked at Jesseri and shrugged. "Don't we have any clerics of Rensha in our force?" the nobleman asked. "We do," she said. "A few survived the last battle." "Then have one of them come here and create a breeze." "You want them to call upon their goddess, beseech her to aid them with her divine powers, so your cape can flutter in a portrait?" "They should be honored to make themselves useful for a change. Not like last time..." "When you pitted them against the enemy's ballistae, and told them to blow the bolts away?" "Precisely." Jesseri sniffed. The image of skewered, splattered dwarves had sickened her for days. And yet somehow they'd won the battle -- after the charging enemy infantry slipped in the blood and entrails. Lord Edmund's good fortune was even more famous than his ineptitude. She set off to find a Rensha worshipper, and was halfway down the slope when she encountered Master Okichi. The warrior from Nine Rivers bowed. His snowy topknot bobbed back and forth. She returned the gesture. "I must speak with Lord Edmund," he said. "He's up on the cliff, but he's-" The swordsman bowed again and continued his ascent. Jesseri glanced at the swords sheathed horizontal at his belt. His left hand was on the katana's hilt. She strode back up after him. "This fellow doesn't look like a cleric," Lord Edmund said. "He's the leader of the swordmasters," she said. "Then what's he doing here? I'm busy creating an image for posterity, so future generations will know what I did during the war!" "Posed on a hill?" the artist murmured. Master Okichi pursed his lips. His eyes narrowed. But he bowed nonetheless. "Lord, my warriors are displeased. We mourn the loss of eleven of our honored brothers." "We're embroiled in a war, my good man. People die in wars. I should know -- I've seen rather a lot of that sort of thing. Terrible business, war. I'll have my poet compose some stanzas in their memory." "When Lord Cassius commanded us-" "Cassius? The fool wasn't a lord! He was a commoner." "When the honored and respected commander led us, we never suffered so many losses in a single battle. We-" "If Cassius was such a good commander, why is he lying dead in a ditch somewhere, while I'm still here?" "I often wonder the same thing myself, lord." "Jolly good. Jolly good. Now if you'll be so kind as to take yourself away..." Okichi's thumb pushed against his katana's tsuba, exposing a few inches of shining, razor sharp steel. Jesseri took his arm. He glared at her, and for a second she waited to be sliced in half. But he slid the blade back into its sheath and allowed her to lead him down the slope. "My men pledged to follow the Lord Kasan," he said, "and Lord Edmund is his underling..." "Don't let him hear you say that," the elf said. "But we will not allow a fool to lead us in battle any longer. My men-" Both of them looked towards the camp, ears drawn by the burst of shouting voices, eyes by the flurry of activity. "Enemies!" came the cry. "Enemies approaching!" Conclusion Unarmored warriors, clad in voluminous trousers and eastern tunics, stood arrayed in front of the tents -- guarding those comrades who were still arming themselves. Some of them held swords at the ready, though in a variety of stances that made their formation seem an odd and haphazard assortment. Others hadn't unsheathed their weapons. They leaned forward as though ready for battle, hands on grips, but refrained from drawing their blades -- as though waiting for the right moment to reveal a mysterious secret. "Swordmasters," Carmath said. "They're meant to be the best swordfighters in the kingdom." Symric snorted. "Bring in something from foreign parts, throw some mysticism on it, and everyone says it's the best." The goblin brandished his sword. "General, let me take my boys against them, and we'll see who's better." "No," Ranlatta said. "We'll send in the tower shields. With a solid wall, we'll have the advantage." "A good plan, general," King Crenus said. The Purple Tigers flanked him in their assassin garb. But the monarch himself was no longer decked out in one of their uniforms. Golden plate armor gleamed around his body, a resplendent panoply with ornate dragon heads as pauldrons. Ranlatta had made tactful comments about how it might make him too obvious a target. The king had smiled and told her that was the point -- to be seen, and inspire. Like Roderick. Like %name% Kasan. She hadn't wanted to mention that one of his exemplars was in his grave, and the other would soon be heading there. Crenus wasn't even wearing a helmet. She hoped he bore some kind of magic protection. "I'll accompany them," he continued. "Sire," a Purple Tiger said, "that may not be wise." "I know Master Okichi and some of his men. If they recognize me, we might be able to spare the bloodshed." "What's happening there?" Carmath asked. One of the swordmasters, a man with bright white topknot, was exchanging inaudible but vociferous words with a dandy in lavish aristocratic clothing. The warrior gestured, perhaps profanely, spat on the ground, and turned on his heel. An instant later, he and his swordsmen charged. "What the hell?" Kimon said. "The rest of their people aren't even ready!" Carmath said. "It's insane!" a Purple Tiger said. "It's stupid!" Symric said. "It's Edmund," Crenus said. He turned his face skyward. "If you want to watch a king piss on a nobleman's body, give us the victory!" The soldiers looked at one another, dumbstruck. "What kind of prayer is that?" Ranlatta asked. "One that might amuse the Trickster," he said. *** Master Okichi gritted his teeth. The idiot! The worthless fool! Where was their support? The spear-throwers or spellcasters to disrupt the enemy formation and perhaps ruin their foes' imposing shields? Most were dead on the last battlefield. The rest were still emerging half-dressed from their tents. "To battle, good fellows!" Edmund shouted behind them. "To battle! A brave man dies but once!" Okichi made a quick step forward and performed a deft diagonal cut. There was a throb of turquoise light. The katana rebounded from a tower shield with a rubbery twang. He cursed. They had casters, at least -- to make their defenses even more impenetrable, and thwart magical blades. His warriors were experiencing no greater luck. Katana and wakizashi against a shield wall was lunacy. But so be it. The master from Nine Rivers sprang backwards, tensed his legs, and jumped. He rose high, blade braced. It was suicide -- for he was throwing himself into the middle of the enemy's weapons. But if he could take some of their lives before they took his, if he could cause even a few seconds' chaos in their line, his men might have a chance. Okichi plunged towards them. And one upturned face made his eyes widen. The ranks parted, clearing his landing, leaving only a man in golden armor to meet his attack. Crenus parried his faltering katana aside. "Do the swordmasters of Nine Rivers still uphold their oaths?" the king asked. "Or has serving a worthless man stripped away their honor?" "Yamero!" Okichi shouted. "Yamero!" *** "What are they doing?" Edmund asked. "Why aren't they fighting?" "I don't know," Jesseri said. "But... I think you might want to escape." "Nonsense!" The nobleman stormed towards the retreating swordsmen. "Okichi! Damn it, man, what's the meaning of this?" The master stopped in front of him. "Lord Edmund, his Majesty Crenus Selutha is among the enemy." "Crenus! Here? Then what are you waiting for? Kill him! Cut him down with those silly swords of yours, and I'll be the commander who won the war!" "My warriors no longer serve the throne, but our oath remains. Our blades cannot taste the royal blood." "What? That's preposterous! You're nothing but a coward!" Okichi's eyes narrowed. "It isn't wise to speak that way to a swordmaster," King Crenus said. He strode towards them and stopped a short distance away -- alongside his Tigers. "I'll speak to my menials however I please, Selutha! And this man is a worthless, sniveling coward!" Master Okichi turned and bowed to the king. "I ask your permission." "I grant it," Crenus said. Okichi's hand went to his sheathed sword. He whirled round. Steel flashed. Edmund's head flew off, startled face spinning in circles. A gust of wind blew his cape as his body fell. "And what of us?" the master asked. "Your fighters served my family well. If you return to Nine Rivers, let there be no cause for quarrel between us." "As you wish." "Now if you'll excuse me, I have something to do. Even a king has to make good on his promises to the gods. Otherwise his luck might run out too." Category:Kingdom Aflame